


Dagras Springs

by Beethelesda



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deception, Jötunn Loki, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beethelesda/pseuds/Beethelesda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you don’t lower your head and embrace the awareness of creating evil, it will always endure. <br/>The origin of what is right stays in the humility of understanding that all evil arises involuntarily. <br/>Wittingly or not. <br/>I have acknowledged this creation of mine and I am trying to put it right, by innumerable attempts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dagras Springs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a translation of one of my longest works. It has been published in my almost-private archive in early 2013 and I have split it in small chapters to translate as an exercise.   
> The setting is a post-Avengers MCU universe, but also features some characters from the comics.
> 
> You can accompany your reading with my [Dagras Springs Fanmix](http://8tracks.com/frostyfrogs/dagras-springs), if you like.
> 
> Since I have no beta and I'm trying to improve and revise as much as I can, every feedback received represents some really really precious help, thank you. My original writing is kind of difficult and it's hard to make it work in another language! (◡‿◡✿)

**~ Asgard**

She stirred up, like an infant in bed.  
Then she rose, slowly, sleepily soaring from out of the sheets made of snow-covered trees.  
Dawn.  
She lazily lit the tops of the white sprayed pine trees. Then, finally awake, finally aware, Dawn stretched her thin fingers out in the   
woods, shaking the snow away with light blows of wind. She climbed on the slopes of the mountains and opened the dark feathered wings of the   
kites.  
She hid diamonds in the icy sources of the mountains and came, at last, to touch the golden spires of the city.   
The stars tucked in the blue velvet of their beds while the sky became clearer and clearer.

The gold of the buildings, which looked like solid sea sand under the night sky, came back to life, shining with the shimmering reflections   
of a thousand mirrors.  
It seemed that the grand winged statues could take flight.  
The sharp shapes of the buildings cut through the clouds like daggers of gold, while the wind whistled through them in its mad rush on the   
terraces. The fountains shone with pearls and sapphires.   
Roaring horns of the early heralds blew their salutation to the sun, which cautiously took place on the first steps of its climb to the new   
day.  
And the gardens were filled with the melody of the nightingales, and the streets were crowded with the clucking of the citizens.   
The woods howled under their white mantle, while Yggdrasil whished under the bright morning's kisses.  
And all around was now music and glory and splendor and majestic charm.

  
Thor was standing on the balcony, with his elbows resting on the railing and his hair tied.  
He couldn't sleep and stood outside to watch the night as long as possible. As long as dawn came back.   
Inside the palace the air was filled with voices even when no one was speaking.  
He could feel Heimdallr's eyes on himself, beyond himself. He looked away, over the tops of the quietly agitated pines and even farther.

Sleep was no longer his friend, despite being tired.   
His bed was no longer his friend, despite being exhausted.   
Even his own home was no longer his friend, despite having been away for so long.

He would close his eyes and see the downfall of the world.  
He would close his eyes and see Him.  
He would close his eyes and struggle to re-open them.

That was the reason why Thor avoided sleeping and avoided all the rest.  
Because both his mind and memory would only be pushed into yet another merciless fall.  
And he already felt too close to the bottom to let himself slip one more time.

Thor didn't want to remember what had happened, nor even dared to explain it.  
The Lady Sif had maintained a dignified silence. He had tacitly thanked her with a nod and had left her with a sigh.

He hadn't talked much with anyone but himself.   
Long monologues with sealed lips, trying to convince himself that he had acted only for the best. He quietly looked for a motivation to keep   
on undertaking his path, to abandon the thought what had happened, to move on.  
But Thor hadn't had the courage to throw away the plastic badge, when he had recovered it in his pocket. Stark technology surely had no   
power in Asgard and trying to pronounce those two words of warning and hope - _Avengers, assemble!_ \- would have been useless.  
Not that he would have dared to try.  
Not now.  
Maybe nevermore.

Midgard was safe, but those who had rescued it, were not safe on their part.

  
Loki's voice was everywhere. He called for Thor all the time.  
Thor tried in vain not to give in, not to give him more.  
But he was just like a sand castle on the sea shore.  
One day the waves would knock him down.

 

Thor had faltered, before handing Loki to Odin.  
He had clamped his brother's wrist and asked what would happen to him.  
Odin hadn't responded and had pulled out the golden needle and thread to sew the mouth of the traitor, in front of all the Asgardians in turmoil.   
He thought so to silence him, shutting the lips of the Liar of Jötunheimr once and for all.  
But the best lies are the ones without words, those that last longer.  
And the best liars don't emit a sound.

Odin didn't know many things.   
Perhaps he imagined them, maybe even came to fear them.  
He didn't know how many times they were holding hands, as children. How many stories were told before going to sleep.   
How many wounds that were either procured or treated together. How many times they looked way too adult. Or when, as adults, they looked maybe too childish. Of all the times in which _no_ became _yes_. Of all the times in which they both had lowered their heads.  
Of the fights. The curses. The cushions drenched in tears and the sheets damp with sweat. Of the shunned truths, the worn-out candles.   
Of all the pages turned together under the guise of brushing hand against hand. Of all the disappointments, the heavy fists of reality.   
Of all the times they had crossed the limits, of the crazy ideas. Of all the hatred, so hot that often became passion.   
Of all the times they both had succumbed. The sincere ones and the less sincere ones.   
Moist skin, white thighs spread apart, filthy mouths, scratches, bruises, teeth cutting into shoulders.  
Heavy offenses and light-hearted confessions.

Many things were unknown.   
Perhaps only imagined, maybe even feared.  
And every look was always a different look, every word had another meaning, every gesture aimed at another point.   
All truths smelled of betrayal and even sitting one alongside the other was never sincere.

And he was always the brilliant God of Asgard, the saint.  
And the other one was always the slut, the liar, the Mother of Monsters.  
And no one would ever know more than that.

Thor ran a hand across his forehead, pressing his temples.   
He turned to look at the entrance of his room, closed by a purple curtain.

Should he enter, he would hear Loki's voice once again.  
And Thor wanted to hear it.

 


End file.
